My body was vibrating with tightly reined in anger. The pretty wide-eyed girl in front of me looked scared shitless, but it wasn't her I was angry about. No, it was me. I should've known she was working for me. If I'd been more involved in the day-to-day business, I would've. Instead, I'd let Mark handle the boring shit.

Of course, if she knew I owned the nightclub... goddamn, she was in for a long night with the punishment I would deal out; I'd be inventive, making it hurt so good.

Emma was shivering in front of me, and her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to talk, but no words came out. The motion brought my attention to her full lips. They were naturally swollen and begging to be used.

She took another step back as I took one forward. The move brought a twisted smile to my own lips–it was like she was a little sheep, and I was the beast hunting her.

"Don't make me ask twice," I said harshly, keeping my voice low as usual. I'd noticed the way other people reacted with fright at my voice, and I loved the power it gave me. Emma though...it looked like it affected her in a whole different way, and that shit pissed me off even more. The way she shuddered as I spoke, like my voice was attach to her clit, was frustrating in a way I couldn't explain.

My mind and body couldn't make up what they wanted; I craved her with an intensity that scared me, and I hated that I did. It was like two sides of me were fighting against each other. One that wanted her as frightened of me as everyone else seemed to be–aside from Callan and Mateo–and the other part wanted her writhing underneath me screaming in ecstasy. But I knew she wasn't afraid of me, not even as she backed away.

There had been something about her the first time we met, that intrigued me. The way that she had asked me a direct question, even when I saw how insecure and shy, she was. It impressed me; how strong she was even with her weaknesses–it was a turn on, to see someone challenge themself. I'd thought about answering the question she'd asked me that night, if I wanted this or not, but I'd surprised myself by dragging her to me and tasted her tempting lips.

It had been a kiss that still filled my thoughts late at night, because there had been a rightness to it that I hadn't experienced with anyone else.

Did I want this? Yes. Did I like that I wanted this? No. Confusing, but I was a confusing person.

"I–I," she stammered, looking so damn cute I wanted to shut her up already. I didn't do cute; I never wanted cute, and yet...I wanted her. "I didn't know you worked here," she finally said, and I believed her. This girl couldn't lie for shit; she wore all her emotions in her facial expressions. She was just as stumped as me.

"Own," I corrected, making her wide eyes widen even further. My cock hardened in my pants at the shocked and innocent look of hers. I took in her body, and my eyes narrowed at her outfit. That, too, was something I had no hand in choosing. I couldn't have cared less what the workers wore, but now I couldn't have cared more. She looked like a fucking slut with those clothes–if you could've even called those tiny scraps that. That wasn't the problem though. What was the problem was that her body was ours–Callan, Mateo, and mine. Fuck if I let other people see what we owned. Because in my mind, we already did. She might not have agreed to it yet. The important word being yet.

She wouldn't just be our submissive for a time. No...she would be ours–body and fucking soul. Because, while I had indecisive feelings about her, I knew I didn't want to see her in the hands of someone else that weren't us.

Thoughts of how I should handle the outfit of hers raced inside my mind. I should probably make it less obvious to the others who worked here that Emma belonged to me, her boss–their boss. But I didn't give a fuck about that. I dragged her away from the bar; people were probably already talking.

"Did you bring other clothes with you?" So help me, God, if she hadn't, I would personally drive her home to get changed.

She blinked a couple of times like she couldn't follow my train of thought. "Y-yes, I brought pants with me."

"Good. Go and change, and then get back to work," I ordered Emma as I went to unlock the door to my office. I didn't trust myself to be alone with her, not now when the anger was right beneath the surface. I needed to get control of myself and fast, we only had a couple of hours before we closed, and then I would have her completely to myself.

Emma hadn't moved when I turned back around; the fire in her eyes extinguished the look of shock from them. "I can decide for myself if I should change or not," she quipped.

The smile I had was anything but pleasant. "You will not disobey me. You won't like the outcome if you do." With that, I opened the door for her. She hesitated slightly, but in the end, walked out without another word.

Technically, she was already on my time. In the contract we'd signed under, we'd agreed that she would get to choose what she did and who she were with when she weren't with us. But seeing as it was three o'clock at night, she was officially mine.

That girl got some fire in her, but I have a damn inferno in me. She'd never win if we put our wills up against each other. After all, there was a reason she was a submissive; she craved the lack of control while I always had it. It remained to be seen if she would follow my order or not. If she wouldn't, she wouldn't be able to sit for a whole damn week without feeling the ache from my hand.

I couldn't concentrate as I tried to get back to work. All I could think of was the girl with the long blond hair that I wanted to grip and pull and a body made for fucking. I knew this day would come, where I would have her to myself, but I didn't feel ready–not by a long shot. There was something about her that made me...edgy. She looked at me like she wanted to get inside my head and know my every thought. If she only knew that she was already in it and had been since the night she first visited Callan's club. That was the part I really didn't fucking like.

The moment I got her text of the address to my business, I'd stared at my phone for a whole damn minute trying to make sense out of it. Could she really have been this close to me for however long without me knowing?

Instead of doing any real work, I pulled up the employee records and searched through them until I found Emma Fields. Clicking in on it, I read everything we had on her: full name, social security number, address, date of birth...

Scrolling down, I found her resume, and I was impressed at all she had done in only twenty-two years. She'd started working early, first as a newspaper carrier, then grocery bagger, barista, hostess–the list was way longer than mine had been when I was her age. Though‚ I wasn't allowed to work until...yeah, I didn't want to go down that road again. Shaking off the old memories trying to resurface, I scrolled further down.

Mark had boasted about her abilities when it came to job performances and development. She was always respectful to our customers, never had gotten a complaint, showed up on time, and worked hard. Emma seemed to be the star employee, based on Mark's opinion. I got the sudden urge to smile at that, but I didn't.

When I closed the documents, I finally noticed the time. It was only fifteen minutes left of Emma's shift, and I wanted to see if she had put on the pants or not. A part of me wanted her to disobey me, just so I could punish her for it later–though, in my mind, that wasn't what I would punish her for. No, that punishment would be for her making me so damn obsessed with her I couldn't see straight.

Here's to fucking hoping.